Loving Me With My Shoes Off Means

Do You Like Me?” No Answer. Silence Bounced, Fell Off His Tongue And Sat Between Us And Clogged My Throat. It Slaughtered My Trust. It Tore Cigarettes Out Of My Mouth. We Exchanged Blind Words, And I Did Not Cry, I Did Not Beg, But Blackness Filled My Ears, Blackness Lunged In My Heart, And Something That Had Been Good, A Sort Of Kindly Oxygen, Turned Into A Gas Oven.

Once Upon A Time We Were All Born, Popped Out Like Jelly Rolls Forgetting Our Fishdom, The Pleasuring Seas, The Country Of Comfort, Spanked Into The Oxygens Of Death.

As A Writer One Has To Take The Chance On Being A Fool.

Somebody Who Should Have Been Born Is Gone. Yes, Woman, Such Logic Will Lead To Loss Without Death. Or Say What You Meant, You Coward . . . This Baby That I Bleed.

To Die Whole, Riddled With Nothing But Desire For It, Is Like Breakfast After Love.